


By Any Other Name?

by tuppenny



Series: All Ways [4]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, antisemitism (referenced)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: David Jacobs, the son of Jewish Polish immigrants, born and raised in the crowded tenements of Lower Manhattan, wants to be a lawyer. But is that possible in 1909? His friends and family weigh in.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Original Female Character(s), Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer
Series: All Ways [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039553
Comments: 25
Kudos: 18





	1. Jack and Katherine

**Late November 1909**

“Heya, Davey!” Jack clapped his friend on the shoulder and practically swept him into the apartment. “Brought your chess set again, I see.” He looked behind David and frowned. “But no Chaya?”

“She’s busy tonight,” David said, which they both knew was code for ‘her father won’t let her leave the apartment.’ “She sends her regrets.”

“Well I send her mine, too,” Jack said, closing the door and welcoming David into the chaos. “That’s a real bummer; I know Kath’ll be disappointed, too. She was lookin’ forward ta havin’ another woman here.”

“Aren’t Charlie and Rosie here?”

“Charlie is, but Rosie’s home, puttin’ Danny ta bed. Says she’s too pregnant and tired ta go anywhere, anyway.”

“Ah,” David said, shouldering his way past knots of former newsies to snag a seat on the couch. “Heya, Finch.”

Finch raised two fingers to his forehead and saluted. “How’s lawyer life, Dave?”

Davey shrugged. “Eh. I’m not a lawyer yet.”

“Still? You’ve been in school for ages!”

“Trust me, I know.” David closed his eyes and sank back into the couch. “If I could speed things up, I would.”

Finch punched Davey’s bicep. “Aw, I didn’t mean it like that. You’s doin’ great, I’m sure. Ooh—lookit that, I think Boots brought candied pecans—I’m gonna go jump on those!” He leapt off the couch and vanished into the crowd.

David kept his eyes closed when he felt a weight sink down beside him. “That was fast, Finch.”

Katherine gave a soft laugh. “It’s me, David. Jack says Chaya couldn’t make it—I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” he said, turning to give his friend an approximation of a smile.

“You’re head over heels for her, aren’t you,” she said sympathetically, reaching out to pat his hand. “Why don’t you go spend time with her instead of being here? We’ll have game night again next month, you can just join us then.”

“It’s not that,” David said, shaking his head slightly. “I…”

Katherine tilted her head. “Yes?”

David bit his bottom lip, looking first at Katherine, then at the 8-month-old baby sitting in her lap. “It’s not important. How’s Eleanor?”

“Nice try,” Katherine said wryly. “She’s wonderful, talking more and more every day—”

“Buh!” Eleanor interjected loudly, pointing at one of Jack’s art folios on the coffee table.

“Yes, bunny, that’s a book,” Katherine said, bouncing the baby up and down and kissing Ellie’s nearly-bald head. “Ellie’s wonderful, and I love her, but come on, Davey,” she said, her voice dropping from her small-child register back to its normal pitch, “Something’s wrong. Do you want to talk about it? We can, you know.”

He opened his mouth to say no, but other words, words that had been brewing in his head since the end of his contract law class earlier that day, spilled out faster than he thought they could. “Would you hire a Jewish lawyer, Katherine?” 

She blinked. “Would I—oh.” Her face fell. “Someone told you that you’d never get a job, didn’t they.”

Davey nodded. “Said no one’d hire a—well, the words don’t matter, but you got it in one. Said clients would think I was just bleedin’ ‘em dry an’ that judges would just think I was lyin’, so even if I made it inta court, I’d never win a case.”

“Oh, David. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said angrily, looking out at the groups of men—former newsies, all—chatting and laughing and catching up in the Kellys’ living room. “It’s not as if anyone’s ever believed in me, or in you—or, well, or in anyone in here, really.” His eyes darkened. “No one ever thinks we can do it. Let alone that we should.” He swung back to face Katherine, his brow furrowed. “How do you do it, Katherine? How do you keep going when everyone’s telling you no?”

She let out a deep breath, as if she’d been unwilling to breathe while he was talking. “I’m just stubborn and contrary, I guess. When someone tells me no, that just makes me want to do it more.” Ellie started to fidget, and Katherine absently gave the baby a finger to suck. “And though I’ve gotten plenty of nos, there have been enough yeses to keep me in the game.”

Her eyes flicked to the wall on the other side of the room, where she and Jack had framed and hung a copy of her first real news story—the story of the newsboys’ strike. “And I don’t need everyone to say yes to me, either,” she added. “As long as I can find one or two people who believe in me, who’ll give me a shot, well—that’s enough.” She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped the drool off of Eleanor’s chin. “I only need one friendly editor, not a whole department of them, and I’ve got that in Mr. Dearing. I know he’ll go to bat for me when I need him to, and I know he respects me and gives me assignments just as good as anyone else’s.”

Eleanor squirmed and reached out for David. “Uh Day!”

David’s face softened at Ellie’s entreaty, and he looked to Katherine, who nodded. David pulled his slobbery honorary niece into his lap and tickled her tummy, causing the little girl to burst into shrieks of laughter.

“Babies are good for the soul,” Katherine said.

David raised an eyebrow. “That’s new. Jack’s converted you, huh?”

Katherine’s eyes twinkled. “You know firsthand that he’s an excellent salesman.” Her gaze fell on Ellie, who was now playing with David’s wristwatch. “And when Ellie’s the product he’s selling, it’s hard not to buy.”

Davey huffed a laugh. “True.”

Katherine’s face grew sober again, and she placed a hand on Davey’s knee. “I’m sorry you had someone be so cruel to you today. That shouldn’t have happened. They were wrong.”

He sighed. “That’s just it, though—they aren’t wrong. Not about what people will think of me, anyway. They’ll see my last name and just… write me off. They’ve been doing it my whole life; why would it be any different now?” He detached Ellie from his watch and grabbed a stuffed animal off the coffee table for her to maul instead. “And I don’t think I have someone like Carter Dearing in my professional life. I’ve got good friends and a good family, but in the legal field?” He shook his head. “I don’t have that one key person in my corner.”

“Yet,” Katherine cautioned. “There’s still time.”

“Mmm,” Davey said, clearly unconvinced.

Katherine pursed her lips, gauged David’s mood, then tentatively offered, “Have you considered changing your name?”

Davey’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Just your last name,” she said quickly. “Like I did. Well, not exactly like I did, because mine might’ve opened doors, and yours is closing them, but—well, maybe if you changed your last name to something anodyne, like… like Smith or Jones or Turner?” She gave him an awkward smile. “Maybe then people would give you a fair shake.”

David’s mouth twisted, as if he’d bitten into something sour. “I… I could.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Katherine said, fearing she’d misstepped. “But sometimes you have to do things you don’t like in order to achieve a bigger goal.”

“That sounds suspiciously like ‘the ends justify the means,’” he pointed out.

Katherine made a rueful face. “I subscribe to that in most things,” she admitted. “Not always, but…” She shrugged. “I’ll never get everything I want. I want so many things, and I won’t live to see most of them happen.” She waved her hand at the look on David’s face. “Oh, don’t give me that—Jack and I dream big, sure, but we’re not out of touch with reality. I know I won’t get most of what I want—I’ll count myself lucky if I live to see women get the vote, honestly—but I can help inch things along so that things will be a little easier for Eleanor, who I hope will do the same for her own daughters someday, if she has any.”

Ellie raised her head at the sound of her name and waved her arms around, smacking Davey in the chin with the ear of her stuffed animal rabbit. “Buh-bee!”

“Yes, muffin, you’re holding your bunny.” Katherine made a peekaboo face at Eleanor, who squealed and stuffed the rabbit’s face in her mouth. Katherine laughed. “Anyway, Davey, I don’t like having to compromise, but I’d rather get some of what I want than none of it. My mother didn’t have a job, but she’s very active philanthropically, and her showing my father that women could handle money and responsibility and public scrutiny meant that, by the time I came along and wanted to be a journalist, he was ready to let me have a paying career."

David snorted, Eleanor threw her stuffed animal onto the floor, and Katherine rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, I did still have to fight with him about it, but he gave in eventually."

"That's true," Davey said, leaning down to pick up the stuffed rabbit and returning it to Eleanor. "And you don't think you might've gotten what you wanted even without your mother's charity work?"

Katherine fiddled with the ringlet at the end of her braid. "Me personally? Probably not. And even though I did manage to become a serious journalist, I still have to make compromises in order to stay in the game. I don't have what the men have. Not yet. And I don't think I ever will." 

David frowned. "What kind of compromises?"

"Well, for example, I’ve agreed to write only soft news stories while pregnant and to stay home with Ellie for a while when she’s a baby." She made a couple of silly faces at Eleanor, who giggled. "I'd like to be able to make those choices myself rather than have someone tell me I have to do it this way, but if the choice that's actually available to me is to compromise or lose my job, then I'll compromise. And sure, I'm not getting everything I want, but maybe the changes I've made will mean that the next woman in the newsroom won't have to fight those same battles, so she'll be able to push things a little farther." 

"I didn't know you had so much patience," Davey said, feeling some of Eleanor's drool start to soak into his pants.

Katherine chuckled. "I rarely let it out to play. You have more than I do, that's for sure. So, who knows, maybe you’ll decide to change your last name, and by the time you have a child, you and people like you will have made enough progress that your child can change it back and do just fine.” She noticed a clump of cat fur on her skirt and brushed it off. “Or maybe you won’t change your last name, and you’ll do well anyway.” She met her friend’s eyes and sighed at the sadness and frustration in his expression. “I wish there were a right answer here, but since there isn't, all I can really say is that I'm sorry that the world is the way it is." She leaned forward and gave him a quick hug, careful not to squish Eleanor between the two of them. 

"I'm just so tired of being the person who has to change in order to make other people comfortable. Why can't other people change to fit me?"

Katherine watched Ellie send her stuffed animal flying again and shook her head. "It's awful and exhausting and just plain wrong. I know that. I really do. And I know you compromise on plenty of things already, and the sad truth is that maybe you’ll end up having to compromise here, too, but... maybe not. Maybe this time will be different.”

She patted his knee. “For what it’s worth, I think the person who talked to you today was dead wrong about your job prospects. I think that person who’ll give you a fair chance is out there, Davey, I really do. I can’t promise you that, of course, but I wouldn’t give up hope yet. You’ve still got a while until you graduate, after all.”

“That’s true,” Davey said, scrubbing one hand down the side of his face. “I wish I knew what was going to happen to me in seven months, but seeing as no one I know has a telephone line to June 1910, I’ll just have to muddle through as best I can.”

Katherine gave him a sympathetic smile. “You can’t ask more of yourself than that.”

“Mama,” Ellie whined, reaching for Katherine, who plucked the baby out of David’s lap and gave her a big kiss.

“You’ve given me a lot to consider, Kath,” Davey said, standing up from the couch. “I think I’ll head out and mull it over.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for the games?” Katherine asked. “We’ll be starting soon.”

The corners of David’s eyes crinkled. “I don’t think I’m good company right now, so it’s probably best for all of us if I leave before I bring everyone down with me. But I’ll see you next month.”

“Make Chaya come next month, too,” Katherine begged. “I need her to come make sarcastic comments with me.”

Davey grinned. “Have you tried asking Jack to fill in?”

“Jack?” Katherine snorted. “Noooope. Not for the kind of sarcasm I'm craving. I love him, Davey, but seriously, I need some female bonding time. Some ‘let’s make fun of men’ time. The next game night is December 7, okay? Get Chaya to come.”

“I’ll do my best,” David said, laying a kiss on Eleanor’s head and giving Katherine a wave. “Thanks again, Katherine.”


	2. Mayer, Esther, and Les

David got back to his family’s apartment early enough that his parents and Les were still awake, although Sarah and Avram had already retreated to their bedroom with their little ones.

“Back so soon, tateleh?” Esther asked, looking up from her mending. “You weren’t having a good time with your friends?”

“Oh, it was fine,” David said, shucking his coat and unlacing his sturdy black boots.

“You shoulda let me go with, Mama,” Les whined. “I’da had more fun than him.”

“Ah, fun,” Esther said dismissively, waving her hand at Les. “You need more fun like a bird needs more wings.”

David laughed, and Les stuck his tongue out at his older brother.

Les turned to his father. “They’s my friends, too, though! I shoulda been allowed ta go!”

“Nu, and what do you want from me now? That I should reverse time so you can go?” Mayer shook his head and returned to reading that day’s edition of _Forverts_.

“You have to study, Elazar,” Esther chided. “You don’t have time to be playing the games.”

Les let his open copybook thunk backwards onto the table. “And Dovid does?”

“Dovid works hard all week,” Esther said.

“And he is an adult,” Mayer added.

“But I—” Les began, and then he sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Fine.”

“Maybe Les could come with me next month,” David said, putting his chess set on the kitchen table.

Les perked up. “Yes! The Jacobs brothers, together again.”

David pulled a chair back from the table and sank heavily into it. “About that… Mama, Tateh, what would you think if I changed my last name?”

Mayer frowned, and Esther set her mending aside. Les held his breath, eyes flicking between his parents.

“I don’t want to,” David said wearily, “But one of my classmates reminded me today that no one will want to hire a Jewish lawyer.”

Mayer snorted. “Oh no? I think Jews will.”

Davey gave a wry smile. “Yes, that’s true. But do you think a judge and jury would trust a Jewish lawyer with a Jewish client?”

Esther’s eyes flicked over to her younger son. “Leyzl, maybe you should go to bed.”

Les rolled his eyes. “I know everyone hates Jews, Mama. I’m not stupid, and I’m not a little kid anymore, either. I’m in college now, remember?”

Esther opened her mouth to protest, but Mayer interjected. “No, he’s right. Let the boy stay. He already knows the world is unkind, and he’s old enough to hear whatever Dovid has to say.”

Esther deflated. “Alright. So. Dovid might change his name.” 

“I haven’t decided,” David reminded her. “I’m just asking what you think about it.”

Mayer closed his newspaper and placed it gently on the floor. “I think you should do what feels right to you.”

David felt his heart flop, but he remained outwardly still. “So you disapprove?”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea!” Les chirped. Esther shushed Les, and David’s eyes stayed fixed on Mayer.

“Dovid,” Mayer said, then paused to cough. “You’ve had so many names already. You are Dovid with us, or Davidke, or Davtshe. You are David at temple and out in the world, and you are Davey with your friends. What’s one more name? If it makes your life easier, change it. It won’t change who you are, and it won’t change the good you put into the world. It won’t change the things that matter.”

David felt his shoulders relax; he hadn’t even realized how tense he was until he heard his father’s words. He looked at his mother, uncertainty in his eyes. “Mama?”

She reached across the table to clasp his hand. “We came to America so that you children could have a better life,” she said, squeezing his fingers tightly. “If changing your name will make your life better, then yes, boychik. Change it.”

“Really?” David looked between his mother and his father, taken aback by their calm support. “Neither of you mind? Neither of you think I’m—betraying the family? That I’m ashamed of being Jewish? That I should keep the family name and do it proud?”

“Family name?” Mayer laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. This name is only a little older than your sister, you know.”

“What?” Davey leaned forward, and Les scooted his chair closer to Mayer. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother and I changed it when we naturalized,” Mayer explained. “It was too difficult for most people here. Too long, too confusing. Not worth the trouble. It’s only a name, after all.”

Les’ mouth had fallen open, and even Davey was showing visible signs of surprise.

Les began bouncing his leg in excitement. “So what was it before? Back in Poland?”

“In the Old Country, we were Yakobovitz,” Mayer said, amused by his sons’ interest. “Jacobs is much simpler, no?”

“Oof, I’m glad you changed it,” Les said fervently. “That’s a mouthful.”

David’s brow furrowed. “But Tateh, that’s… that’s a part of our family history that’s just… gone now,” he said slowly. “That was something that tied us to our grandparents, and our great-grandparents, and now… now it’s not there.”

“They are still our family,” Mayer said firmly. “Name or not, they are still ours.”

“But Mama,” Davey said, turning to the only other person in the room who might be on his side. “Shouldn’t we be proud of being who we are? Shouldn’t other people have to accept us just like this, Jewish names and all? Why should we change ourselves to fit what they want us to be?”

“Davtshe,” his mother said, her voice soothing. “You do not have to change it if you do not want to. No one is saying to you that you must. If you want to stay David Jacobs, you can stay David Jacobs. But you can still be proud of who you are even if you go by something else. You don’t have to fight every battle you face, my love. Even King David didn’t do that.”

David bit his lip and looked across the room to the heavy wooden chest where they stored the good candles for Shabbat, the prayer shawls for Temple, the menorah for Hanukkah.

“Mama’s changed her name three times, then,” Les mused, tapping his pencil against the edge of the table. “What was your name before you were married, Mama?”

“Fisher,” she said with a smile. “When I met your father, I was Esther Fisher.”

Les’ eyes popped. “Fisher?! David, that’s perfect! You could just use Fisher! Then you can still be Jewish and have a connection to the family and all of that, but no one will know!”

David couldn’t help but smile at Les’ uncanny ability to phrase things in exactly the wrong way. “It’s the not-knowing that I’ve got a problem with, Les.”

Les frowned. “Well, I don’t. If I end up in law school, I’m enrolling as Fisher.”

“And we’ll be very proud of our two lawyer sons,” Esther said firmly.

“Hey, David—once I graduate, we could start our own law firm,” Les teased. “Fisher and Jacobs.”

David kicked Les in the shin. “You mean Jacobs and Fisher. I’m older, I’ll be the senior partner.”

“Ain’t you ever heard of alphabetical order?” Les whined, kicking Davey back. “Fisher an’ Jacobs. It sounds better that way, anyhow.”

“You’ve gotta to be kidding,” David said, enjoying the easy back-and-forth he and Les still had—had always had—even though David hadn’t lived at home for two years now. “There’s no way we’re listing you first. You’re barely out of diapers!”

Mayer interrupted his sons by clearing his throat. “Well, I, for one, don’t care if it’s Fisher and Jacobs, Jacobs and Fisher, Fisher and Fisher, or Jacobs and Jacobs.” He stood and stretched, trying to work out the stiffness in his back. “They all sound wonderful to me.”

“And we’d hire them in a heartbeat,” Esther added. “But,” she added sternly, “Only if they get to bed on time. _Farshteyt ir?”_

“ _Ya, Mame_ ,” David and Les chorused, as Les began to clear his schoolwork off the table and David moved to wheel the Bailey foldout bed away from the wall. They made quick work of turning the living room into their shared bedroom, wished their parents a good night, and took turns washing their faces and brushing their teeth in the small kitchen sink.

And if, much later, once they’d turned out the lights and were lying in bed, Les turned to David and whispered, “Fisher and Jacobs,” and if David responded by shoving him off the bed and onto the sofa, well, their parents didn’t need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tateleh is a Yiddish term of endearment for a male child.
> 
> "Nu" is an all-purpose word in Yiddish. It's an interjection, a linking word, a transition word, and so much more.
> 
> Forverts, or, as it's now known, The Forward, still exists, both in English and Yiddish, though recently it became an online-only publication. It was founded in 1897 as a Jewish socialist newspaper.
> 
> I did do research to pick a last name that's etymologically related to Jacobs that Polish Jews did actually use, and Fisher is another last name that Polish Jews had, as well. Names were not changed at Ellis Island (common misconception); immigrants chose to change their own names later on, sometimes on their naturalization papers. You can read more [here](https://href.li/?https://www.uscis.gov/records/genealogy/genealogy-notebook/immigrant-name-changes)
> 
> "Farshteyt ir?" is Yiddish for "Do you understand?"
> 
> "Ya, Mame," is Yiddish for "Yes, Mom"


	3. Chaya

Chaya opened the door almost as soon as David raised his hand to knock on it. “Dovid!” She beamed. “Come in.”

David rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I was wondering if we could go out for breakfast today? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, and I don’t want your father interrupting.”

She raised an eyebrow and switched to Yiddish. “How cryptic.”

“It’s nothing important,” he said quickly, his voice coming out a little deeper now, the way it always did when he spoke his mother tongue.

She smiled. “No, no. I understand. My father is a bear. Let me get my coat.” She disappeared behind the apartment door and soon resurfaced, clad in her hat, coat, gloves, and scarf, all of which were faded but clean. Her keys were already in her hand, but as she turned to lock the door, she paused. “Wait. Do you have enough money to eat out?”

David could feel a flush bloom on his cheeks, spread across to his ears, and seep down his neck. “Yes.”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Yes, if you walk back to Columbia instead of riding the tram and then also skip lunch today?”

“Yes,” he muttered. There was no point in lying; she knew his habits too well for him to get away with it. The admission still stung, however. How on earth was he supposed to impress his brilliant, beautiful girlfriend when he was dirt poor, and, worst of all, his dirt-poor girlfriend knew it?

“I will bring us some food, then,” Chaya said, unfazed.

David thought he might sink into the floor from shame. This was not how he’d wanted the morning to start. But, then again, he thought, brightening a little, she’d met him when he was just as dirt poor as he was now, and she’d agreed to date him anyway, and part of the reason they were even together at all was because she’d started pity-feeding him at the library, so… maybe it was alright. Yes, it probably was, he decided, rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness. If she resented him for his poverty and his inability to provide for her right now, she would have left him months ago. She liked him just the way he was, and there would be better times ahead.

Chaya emerged from the apartment with a small basket on her arm, a blue-checked cloth covering the food inside. “Where to, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Well, it’s hard to beat the rooftop for privacy,” he said, and she nodded. He crooked his elbow out for her, his heart fluttering as she took his arm and laid her gray-knitted glove atop his black coat. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” she said, and so he did, even though they both knew how to get to the rooftop. For all they were practical people, they agreed that sometimes things were nicer, more special, a little more exciting, when you dressed them in unnecessary formality. Going to the tenement rooftop was one such thing. Yes, they were climbing up a fire escape to sit on a sooty concrete slab and eat day-old rye bread, but they were doing it in style, thank you very much.

David climbed the ladder to the roof first, reaching down to take the basket from Chaya and then holding out a hand to help her up. She smiled in thanks, smoothed her skirts, and took the checkered cloth from the basket. “So we don’t have to sit on the dirt,” she explained, flapping it out and spreading it wide on the cold concrete. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he nodded, bending down to brush out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Chaya unpacked the basket as they settled in, handing David a hunk of fresh, buttered bread and a misshapen apple. “Na, Dovidle? Why are your insides twisted like sailor’s ropes?”

Her unexpected analogy won a huff of laughter from David.

Pleased with herself for getting a reaction, Chaya let her shoulders ease. If he could still laugh, things must not be too bad. “Talk, _zeeskeit_.”

David ran his thumb back and forth over his knuckles, trying to think of how to start. He’d done this twice now—shouldn’t it have gotten easier?

“David,” Chaya said, switching to English. “Did someone die?”

His eyes widened. “What? No! Why would you ask that? I said it was nothing important!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then _talk_ already!”

“I—” He licked his lips. “How would you feel if I changed my last name?”

Her eyebrows knitted. “Explain,” she said, returning to Yiddish, where they were on equal footing.

“No one will want to hire a Jewish lawyer.” He wasn’t going to pretty things up the way he had with Katherine, and he wasn’t going to dance around it the way he had with his parents. There was no need. Not with her. He met Chaya’s deep, dark eyes as he spoke the words aloud, watching them flash with anger as the realization hit her.

The spark in her eyes shifted quickly from anger to resolve, and she shook her head. “No. They’ll want you. You’ll make them want you. They won’t dare to say no.”

He felt his chest ease for the first time since yesterday afternoon, and he blinked; he hadn’t even noticed the weight until it was gone. “It would be easier if I changed my name, you know.”

She frowned. “Yes, but you don’t need to. You’re a fighter. You always have been.” She paused, and David’s breath caught to see his frustration mirrored back at him in every line of her body. “You’ll fight the world on this, too, Dovid. And you’ll win.”

He tilted his head. “So you don’t think I should do it.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly.” She pursed her lips and twirled an errant ringlet around her finger. “If you want to change your name, then I won’t think less of you for doing it. But if you don’t want to, then I won’t think you’re foolish, either.”

David felt the last threads of his tension melt away, and he took a deep breath, savoring the bite of the cold and the taste of the city. And it was sharp, and it was acrid, but it was his. His wildly imperfect, prejudiced, hopeful, sky’s-the-limit city. “Thank you, Chaya.”

She smiled in understanding, her cheeks rosy in the November air. “Ah. You just needed permission, didn’t you. You didn’t want to change it at all.”

“No,” he said. By which he meant yes, because she was exactly right. She always was.

“Good,” she said, a mischievous twist to her mouth. “Because I was rather looking forward to being Chaya Jacobs.”

David burst out laughing. “Oh, Chaya. I love you.”

She froze.

Her stillness didn’t register with David at first, but as his laughter died, he noticed. Oh, he noticed. And then notice after notice flooded upon him in quick succession, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He noticed her silence. He noticed the wideness of her eyes. He noticed the echo of his own words in his head. He noticed the ice flooding his veins.

“Oh,” he whispered, the tension crashing back over his head. “I—Chaya, I—” He floundered for a second, drowning in her shock, drowning in the endless pools of her eyes, drowning in the fear that he’d ruined things beyond repair. _Fix this, David, fix it!_ He spluttered. “Chaya, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—I mean, I meant it, but I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, and I didn’t mean for it to slip out like that, either, it just—it just—I mean, um, I—”

She surged forward and kissed him, all ferocity and passion, her work-worn hands gripping his face and keeping him close. The rest of his apology ebbed away, lost in the warmth of Chaya’s skin, the taste of her mouth, the press of her body against his. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, laughing as her bony knees knocked against his hips.

“Chaya,” he breathed, pulling back slightly to scan her face. “Do you—is this—”

Her eyes darkened and she cut him off with yet another kiss, this one firm and possessive. He heard himself make a deep, longing noise as she bit his lower lip and tugged before laving it with her tongue. He hadn’t known people did things like that. He certainly hadn't known that _she_ did things like that.

“Again,” he begged, “ _Neshomeleh_ , please, I need—”

“Shh,” she said, moving his greedy hands to her hips and leaning back in. “My Dovidle,” she whispered fondly, pushing a lock of hair back from his forehead and pressing a kiss to each of his eyelids. “I love you, too, _hartsenyu_. So much.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed, and enveloped her in a hug. She returned his embrace and nestled into him, pressing her head against his heart. David laid his head atop hers and sighed in contentment. “This is better than dreams, you know,” he mused, rubbing one hand up and down her back. “Even in my dreams, I never had this. Never had _you._ ”

“Well, now you do,” She said, her breath forming condensation on the coarse material of David’s coat. “I’m yours.”

“It feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” He raised his head and tipped her chin up to see her again, her kiss-swollen lips, her cold-reddened cheeks, her sparkling eyes. “Being loved like this?”

She nodded. “Dreams could never compare.”

“I love you,” he said again, because he did. So very much. And now that he knew she felt the same way? Now that he knew he could speak the words aloud? Well, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather say.

She stretched up to kiss him once more, her face shining. "And I love you, too." She grinned. "David Jacobs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Lemme know if there are other stories you'd like to see from me; I'm happy to write, but the idea machine is kaput at the moment, and I feel more like writing if I know someone wants to read whatever it is.


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